


Only if For a Night

by PilotintheAttic



Category: maine and wolf
Genre: AU, Biting, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilotintheAttic/pseuds/PilotintheAttic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The consequences of a drunken mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaki/gifts).



The party had been loud and drowning in alcohol, but Maine hadn't really expected anything different. He knew that a bunch of agents with a week off would get horrifically drunk on the first night and spend the rest of their holidays sleeping it off. Even the prim-and-proper secretary passing out in the pub's toilets had been expected. What had been more of a surprise was the fact that Brandt hadn't killed anyone in a bar fight. Indeed, Brandt had been drinking quietly by himself at a table in the corner for most of the evening.

Since the medication started, the agent had calmed down considerably. He was more patient and more tolerant, but not so far as to be kind. Although, everyone steered well clear of him that night because they had seen him have enough alcohol to be rather drunk and were afraid of what might happen. But Brandt had been good about it, understanding their reasons.

“Hey, Maine,” called out a slightly slurred voice as the young man walked back to where he parked his car. 

Maine turned around. “Hello, Brandt,” he said warily. 

“Are you busy? Course not. You should come back to my pla-”

“I’m going out with Wolf tonight. No, Brandt,” Maine said shortly. 

Brandt pulled a face. “Aw. You're always out with Wolf. Don't you remember when it used to be me?”

“Yes, Brandt, I remember. But I’m with Wolf now.” He had reached his car. “Goodnight.”

Suddenly his front was slammed against the car. The air was forced from his lungs and he grunted in pain, and felt his wrists being held in place behind him. “Stop it, Brandt,” he snapped when he had gotten his breath back.

“I won't take up much of your time,” Brandt purred into his ear. He scraped his teeth along Maine's neck and the other tried to pull away.

“For fuck's sake, stop. You reek of alcohol.”

“For fuck's sake...” Brandt echoed thoughtfully. “Besides, you're not in a fit state to drive. You've had a lot to drink, too.”

“I’m not that drunk. Not as much as you.” Maine's wrists were twisted a little more and he winced, and Brandt pressed into him from behind. He growled, feeling the erection being rubbed against him. “Not here, you fucking basta-”

As Maine turned his head to swear at the agent, Brandt took the opportunity to catch his mouth in a kiss. Maine struggled, but in vain, as Brandt just bit down on his lip to keep him there.

He really was drunk. Maine cursed himself. His mind was too clouded, and if it wasn’t he would have been able to get away already. By the time Brandt pulled away, Maine had mostly given up fighting. Even contemplating attacks and defences gave him a headache. It had been years since he and Brandt were together; he had forgotten how good the agent was. There had been a type of power and violence in their relationship which he didn't have with Wolf now. He almost missed it. 

Brandt knew he missed it. He could feel it in the way Maine didn't fight the bitten lip and the way his eyes fluttered closed when it happened. He could hear it in his voice. “Come on,” he said. “One night. Like we used to be. You won't be missed.” He began to lead Maine away down the road, holding his wrist firmly. “Spy stuff turns up all the time - you'll be able to explain the marks that way too.”

Maine's stomach clenched at that thought, but he kept walking at a steady pace beside Brandt. He wasn't walking completely straight; he wondered if the cool night air would sober him up a little and he could run back to his car. He’d go back to the flat where Wolf was no doubt waiting in the living room for him so they could go out, perhaps reading a book with the radio on in the background, and everything would be fine.   
Maine knew what he was doing now was wrong. He hated himself for going along, but he'd be a fool to try and escape Brandt, the psychopath. There was also something about Brandt which was addictive. Maine hadn't tasted it in years, but that one kiss brought back all the memories. But it wasn't love, not at all. Nothing could hope to replace what he and Wolf had, but he couldn't deny that the sex was good with Brandt in a different way than with Wolf. With Wolf, they trusted they had absolute safety in each other’s arms, but with Brandt there was danger at every movement. Brandt knew just how far he could push Maine, just how far he could go until it was too much. 

“I should go home,” Maine said as they stopped outside Brandt's front door. “I should go back to Wolf,” he said as Brandt led him into the hallway. “I should-”

The door clicked shut. As soon as the light from outside left the hallway, Brandt pushed Maine against the wall and trapped him there, catching him in urgent kisses and quick nips, biting down hard on his neck as he ground their hips together. Maine struggled, but half-heartedly, and soon gave in to the pleasure. He could say nothing as Brandt kissed him again and bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He felt it on his tongue and licked his lips. Brandt was rushing, as if the world were about to end, as if they would never see each other again. He was working on their clothing now, tearing Maine's coat, jacket and shirt off with lightning speed. He pressed against Maine, who gasped and tried to stifle the moan that escaped him as teeth scratched his throat. “Oh god, Brandt, not here,” he said, still looking hopefully towards the door. As if Brandt would just let him go now. 

The agent rolled against Maine again before leading him by the front of his belt to the bedroom. As soon as they got through the doorway he grabbed Maine's wrist and twisted it behind him, throwing him face down on the bed. Maine yelped at the pain and coughed as he landed, but Brandt ignored it and tore off Maine's trousers and pants, laying down on top of him. He was still wearing his shirt and jeans, although he had shed his coat, and Maine winced as the rough denim rubbed against his bare skin. 

“Take off your fucking clothes,” Maine growled. He gave a yelp as Brandt clamped his teeth down on his shoulder, and saw white, and by the time he had regained his ability to think again Brandt had stripped naked and was kneeling between Maine's legs. “Brandt,” Maine snapped, “Don't you dare.”

Brandt responded by setting himself, the head of his cock just touching Maine's entrance. 

“Don't you fucking dare, without any preparation.”

Brandt huffed. “Have it your way,” he said shortly, and turned Maine on his back. He straddled his chest and leaned forward. “Suck,” he commanded, “and do it well because that's all the preparation you're getting.”

“You're joking,” Maine protested, but Brandt forced his cock into his mouth and said nothing, a slightly wild look in his eyes. The spy knew he was serious, and worked hard, taking in as much as possible without gagging and rolling his tongue in ways that made Brandt groan.

Brandt pulled away and flipped him onto his front again, wasting no time in setting himself ready again. But Maine was tense. “If you don't relax a bit it's going to hurt a hell of a lot more than you’d like,” he warned.

“I can't,” Maine hissed back, and he cried out as Brandt forcefully pressed two fingers into him to loosen the muscle. 

As soon as Brant withdrew his fingers, he gripped Maine by the hips and thrust sharply in.

The pain was burning, and Maine shouted into the duvet. Brandt did him the favour of holding still for a moment while Maine adjusted. It hurt and wouldn't stop hurting no matter how he shifted, and he was sure he was bleeding. Brandt leaned forward and placed his mouth on the join between Maine's neck and shoulder, kissing it softly before taking a deep bite. Maine groaned, half in pleasure and half in pain, and Brandt took the opportunity of his distraction to pull out a bit and slam back in. 

Maine gave a yell, gripping the duvet tightly in both fists, and this time Brandt ignored his distress and kept thrusting. Maine was shaking beneath him, and Brandt explored the shivering back with his hands, raking his nails from the shoulder-blades to hip as Maine moaned at a particularly pleasant thrust, pleased when he left marks from which small beads of blood appeared. 

He heard Maine whimper and he paused. He changed position, forcing Maine to his knees and elbows, and kneeled upright behind him. As he thrust, Brandt fondled Maine's cock, stroking it in time and delighting in the whimpers he was drawing out from the spy. Maine came not long after the position change, and Brandt slammed brutally in again as he climaxed as well. He shallowed and slowed, but then buried himself deeply in as he pushed Maine down to lie on his front so he could lie, exhausted, on top of him.

Maine was shivering, and moaned softly at the feeling of Brandt still inside him as he moved to lie down. He licked his lips and swallowed; his throat felt dry. “I need to go back to Wolf,” he said quietly. 

Brandt muttered wordlessly and ground his hips into Maine, who groaned again. “Why would you want to go back?” he said lowly, his mouth by Maine's neck where it was still bleeding from the bites. “You like this, we both know it.”

“I love Wolf,” Maine said. He was sober now, and his mind was filled with regrets about the night. He hated himself. It felt strange to be talking about Wolf while Brandt was still inside him. It felt wrong. “Pull out,” he said. “I'm going home.”

“Stay the night, won't you?” Brandt didn't move.

“Brandt, let me up.” A warning tone crept into Maine’s voice.

Brandt sighed, and sank his sharp teeth savagely into Maine's shoulder almost exactly where another bite mark was. He tasted fresh blood and heard the spy cry out, and kissed the wound before pulling out and sitting up. “Get your stuff and go, then,” he said, smacking Maine on the arse. “I'll be in the shower.”

Brandt went into the bathroom before Maine had a chance to get anything to clean himself with, so he simply sighed and gingerly put on his black trousers and his shirt, hoping that his jacket and coat would disguise the wounds on his shoulders. Wolf was bound to notice them when Maine got home, especially as they shared a bed. There was no way he wouldn't see or feel the marks. Maine cursed himself, disgusted at his actions, and checked his phone. 

There were two missed calls from Wolf, both from over an hour ago. It was 11.30pm now; Wolf had probably given up and gone to bed. Maine sighed. He needed to make it up to him somehow. 

Maine got home well after midnight, after getting a little lost on his way back to the car, and he was relieved to see that Wolf had gone to bed after all. Maine got a couple of cotton swabs and some antiseptic from the first-aid box in the kitchen and dabbed at the bite marks on his neck and shoulders, cleaning off the worst of the blood and soothing the sting, before taking a shower. There was a good chance it would wake Wolf up, but he needed to clean himself. The hot water stung and hurt his shoulders and Maine let it, like some small form of punishment for what he had done. 

He stood in the shower for a long time, debating waking Wolf and telling him what happened. But would that do more harm than good? The marks couldn't be kept a secret; Wolf would have to be told something. He could figure something out and tell him in the morning, maybe. Maine sighed heavily and turned off the water.

He could hear the kettle boiling in the kitchen. Shit. Wolf was definitely awake. Maine dried and wrapped the towel around his waist, putting a smaller towel around his shoulders to hide the bites. Then he went out into the living room.

“Wolf?” he called out.

“Kitchen.” Wolf sounded tired, but not angry, not yet. He didn’t look around from the kettle when Maine went to stand in the doorway. He was upset with him. “You were out a long time,” he said, pouring hot water into the two mugs he had set out. “I thought the pub thing was only until nine.”

“Yes. I, uhh... Wolf.” Best be honest, Maine told himself. Say it now.

“Yes?”

“I got drunk,” Maine said quickly, and took a deep breath. “I got drunk and I... I had sex with Brandt.” His breath caught in his throat as he saw Wolf freeze, and then slowly put down the kettle. He didn’t turn around, still. “I am so sorry, Wolf.”

“...Right.” Wolf leaned on the counter by the mugs, tapping his index finger steadily on the surface. “Right,” he said again. “Well.” 

“I figured I should be honest. Or you’d find out eventually.”

Wolf laughed, a short sharp sound. “What, I’d find out when one day it’s his name instead of mine you call out during – oh.” He had turned angrily to face Maine as he spoke, and was staring at his hips. 

Maine followed his gaze. Bruises, from fingertips. He hadn’t noticed them. “Wolf, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t bother.” Wolf held up his hands. “Right. Markings. Of course he’d mark you. Anywhere else?”

Maine slowly removed the towel from his shoulders, revealing the bites on his lower neck and across the shoulders, and Wolf drew back visibly. 

“You need to sort those out,” was all Wolf said, struggling to keep his voice level. “They’re still bleeding a little.” He didn’t offer the first aid kit to Maine, even though he was standing right next to the drawer that held it. Maine moved to get it himself and Wolf backed well away. “You’re not sleeping in the bed tonight,” he told him. 

“Are you okay, Wolf?” Maine asked. 

Wolf wouldn’t go near him, and moved carefully to the other side of the room. “What do you think?” he asked, leaning against the wall. “How do you think I’m meant to react?”

“I don’t...”

“You don’t know, I see. Why did you do it?” Wolf asked. When Maine stayed silent, he said quietly, “You don’t know, again. Right. Look, if you want to go back to Brandt, that’s absolutely fine. Absolutely fine. Just tell me now, so I’m not wasting my time here.” 

“Wolf, no. I don’t want to-”

“Sure you do. You do.” Wolf looked around the room, trying to avoid looking at Maine and his marks. His eyes settled on the doorway to the bedroom. “Goodnight,” he said firmly, leaving the kitchen without a glance back. He left the fresh tea on the counter, next to the one he had made for Maine.


	2. Chapter 2

Maine woke up to the sound of the front door slamming shut, and he jolted upright in the armchair he had been sleeping on. Wolf had just gone out and the bedroom door was open, and on the other armchair was a pile of clothes. Maine cocked his head curiously. They were his clothes. “Oh,” he sighed, realising. Wolf was completely banishing him from the bedroom. He flexed his arms, trying to ease the stiffness in his shoulders and wincing at the bite marks as he stretched. He would have to get used to the armchair. 

Maine and Wolf barely saw each other over the next week and a half. Wolf left early in the morning and returned late in the evening each day, never acknowledging Maine’s existence. He locked the bedroom door each night and Maine couldn’t get in, and if Maine tried to speak to him he would hardly look at him. It was painful, but Maine knew he more than deserved it. 

He knew it wouldn’t make up for what he’d done, but Maine made absolutely sure there was dinner on the table every single night for Wolf. If the food was ready before Wolf got home, Maine kept it warm in the oven or ready to microwave. For the first few days, Wolf would get home to see the meal, glance at Maine (and Maine noticed his eyes always travelled over his neck to see how healed the bites were) and would walk straight past it to the bedroom, where he would stay locked until the next morning. Maine put the food in the fridge, but it was never eaten. The fifth morning, however, when Maine checked the fridge he found that some of the leftovers had disappeared overnight. 

 

It was the eighth day since Maine’s confession. Wolf was wandering around London, as he had been doing the last seven days. He didn’t have anywhere to go, but he hated to be in the flat at the moment. He spent the days walking, sitting in parks and wondering what had happened. He couldn’t understand why Maine had been so cruel, and he didn’t know what would happen to their relationship now. They couldn’t go on like this, hardly speaking to each other. Wolf could barely look at the spy; he wanted to cry or hit something each time he saw the marks, taunting him, half-hidden by Maine’s shirts. He couldn’t forgive him, at least not until the marks had disappeared completely. But there would always be traces of them. Wolf would always know it happened. And if he could hardly look at Maine, how could he ever be able to touch him, to kiss him, to curl up with him in bed? He hated the thought of being without Maine, but what if it came to that?

On this particular day Wolf had wandered into a network of quiet residential streets, made up of three-storey brown-walled sets of flats. He walked in a circle around the streets three times before changing route to get to a larger road which had a selection of restaurants and pubs lining it. He vaguely remembered Maine saying it had been somewhere along this road he had gone out for a drink. 

“Hey!”

The sharp shout startled Wolf from his thoughts and he looked around. A blond young man was walking towards him, having just got up from a chair outside one of the little pubs. It was Brandt. Wolf had never hated a man so much in his life. 

Brandt had been drinking, Wolf could tell, although it hadn’t been much. He backed away as Brandt slowed to a halt in front of him. “How are you, Wolf?” the agent asked. A grin lit up his face as he saw the loathing in Wolf’s eyes. “Aha, Maine told you, didn’t he?” He reached out towards Wolf, who took another step back. “Did you like my handiwork?”

Wolf stood firm, resisting the urge to punch him right across the face. He wanted desperately to ask why Brandt would use Maine like that, or say anything at all to him that would wipe the grin off his face. But he had nothing. He stood still as Brandt circled around him, watching him carefully. 

Brandt came to a stop in front of him again, looking genuinely concerned. “You’ve really lost sleep over this, haven’t you?” he asked. “Be honest.”

“Yes,” Wolf said evenly. “Yes, and it’s your fault.” 

Brandt looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that it would cause such a problem for you.”

“You didn’t think-? He cheated on me, basically, how would you have expected me to react?” Wolf snapped. 

Brandt glanced around the street. “Come on, Wolf,” he said quietly. “Can we talk about this privately? I live just a couple of streets away. I need to show you some files I have in my flat anyway – I forgot to give them to Maine earlier.” 

Wolf glared at him, wary, but Brandt showed no malice in his face. He sighed. “Go on. Where do you live?”

 

Brandt’s second-floor flat was much smaller than Wolf’s own, but with a similar layout. Wolf was shown to the sofa in the living room while Brandt made coffee for them both, and he tried not to think of what Maine had done here. 

“Here,” Brandt said, handing Wolf a mug. “It’s a bit hot.” He sat down on the sofa next to Wolf, sipping his own drink, and said hesitantly, “I really am sorry about Maine, though.” 

“Right...”

“How is he?” Brandt tried. 

Wolf shot him a look. “What, planning to have another go?” he snapped.

Brandt, suppressing a smile at Wolf’s anger, put his coffee mug on the table beside the sofa and said, “No, I mean the wounds. Healing?”

“As far as I know.” Wolf paused, and said, “You bit him rather hard.”

“That was rather the point...” Seeing Wolf’s expression, Brandt shook his head. “Not like that. You know Maine and I used to be together, right?”

“Yes.” Wolf’s tone was clipped.

“I know his limits, okay? I wouldn’t hurt him, on purpose or by accident.”

“You’re saying he likes it?”

“Yeah. Trust me on this.” He hesitated, and then cleared his throat. “Be honest. You’re angry at me?”

“Of course.” Wolf had finished his drink and let Brandt take the mug from him and put it aside. 

“Are you more angry at me because I had sex with Maine, or because I hurt him?”

Wolf opened his mouth to reply, but halted. No sound came out.

“I know you’re angry at Maine for cheating on you. But at me?”

“Because you hurt him,” Wolf said slowly, after some thought. “You really hurt him.” 

Brandt’s keen blue eyes gleamed. “Ah, I thought so. Look, though,” he said quietly, resting a hand lightly on Wolf’s knee. “It’s not so bad. Maine likes it, and I’m sure you will if you give it a try.”

Wolf stared at the agent in horror and pushed his hand away, springing to his feet. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Brandt said. “Try it, and I assure you it’s not so bad once you get used to the idea. I took my meds today; I won’t hurt you.” 

“No,” Wolf said firmly, holding up his hands. “No, Brandt, no.” 

Brandt frowned, and put his hands together on his knees. “Okay,” he said. He shut his eyes, and Wolf watched him silently murmur something, as if in prayer. Numbers, up to ten. “Okay,” Brandt said again. “You can sit down, I won’t do anything.” 

“I’m good here.” Wolf stood in the centre of the room, just out of Brandt’s reach. 

Brandt shrugged. “How are you and Maine? As a couple, I mean.”

“We’re not talking.” Wolf cringed at how childish it sounded, but really, how else could he have acted? “I can’t trust him.” He sighed in frustration. “Why the hell am I telling you this, anyway?”

Brandt considered this for a moment, and then suggested hesitantly, “Why don’t you phone Maine, and get him to come here. It’d be best we all sit down and talk about this. Because your situation isn’t just going to resolve itself.” 

Wolf scoffed. Was he really taking relationship advice from Brandt? “I don’t want to talk to Maine,” he said. 

Brandt chuckled. “Yes, you do. I can see you hate this.”

“Well, what’s there even to talk about? Maine got drunk, and I’ll bet you were too, and things got out of hand. That’s it.” Wolf gestured with his hands as he spoke, and sighed and came to sit back down on the sofa. He was sure to put some distance between him and Brandt, but as the agent seemed genuinely concerned (and his medication was clearly working) he relaxed a little. He put his head in his hands. “Call him if you want,” he mumbled. “I don’t really care.” 

Brandt fished his mobile out of his pocket and quickly tapped out a message. “If he sees the text immediately, he’ll be here in around fifteen minutes,” he told Wolf. He paused, and then said, “You could get your own back, I suppose.” Wolf looked up, and he continued, “I mean, you could even the score.”

Wolf looked at Brandt warily, tensed to jump away. “That’s...”

“Look, you show Maine how it feels to be replaced.” Seeing Wolf wince at the last word, he frowned. “I said it before, but the marks won’t hurt as much as you’d think. But it’ll hurt Maine, won’t it? Even just one-”

“It’s not the same for me,” Wolf said shortly. “With Maine, it was a good night with an ex he probably still wants to go back to. I’m not...”

Brandt let out a small laugh. “Oh no, Maine doesn’t love me. He told me that. That night was a mistake.” 

“So why would I want to do it?” Wolf said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t have it in me to be unfaithful out of spite. It’s not something I want to do.”

“Forget about the whole ‘cheating’ thing,” Brandt replied. “Aren’t you at all curious about it? What it felt like? Those marks.” He was leaning ever so slightly towards Wolf.

“Curious, yes. But not enough to want to try it. I’m not drunk like he was; I still have my senses.” 

“We still have a few minutes until he gets here,” Brandt said. “We don’t have to do much, just enough to make him jealous.”

“I told you, no,” Wolf said warningly. “When Maine gets here, I’d like everyone to just sit down and be honest.” He pushed his hands through his hair and gripped, as if he could just tug the frustration out of his head.

Brandt gave a quiet huff and checked his watch. “I have a better idea,” he said. “I want to see the look on his face when he sees us-” He suddenly sprang forward and hooked his arms through Wolf’s, holding them locked at his back, and Wolf yelped. “-like this,” he finished, his voice a low rumble in Wolf’s ear. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Wolf hissed, straining against the hold. He felt Brandt’s face brush his neck. “Stop it, stop it right now.” 

Brandt merely laughed, and carefully licked a stripe up Wolf’s neck to just behind the ear. Wolf shivered at the contact. “Shush, Wolf,” the agent said, moving his shirt collar out of the way with his teeth. “Trust me, it’s not that bad. Maine will be here soon. Until then...” He pressed a series of kisses to Wolf’s neck, and the young man struggled again.

“Don’t, seriously, Brandt,” he whimpered. “I swear to god, if you-”

“You can’t do anything,” Brandt muttered, nipping the slope from Wolf’s neck to the shoulder lightly. “Don’t fight me.” 

Tears sprang unbidden to Wolf’s eyes and he blinked them rapidly away. “Let me go. Let me go, please.”

There was a sound outside, of footsteps rushing up the stairs. Brandt’s teeth grazed against Wolf’s skin and he tried to pull away, pleading quietly. Someone banged on the front door. “Open the door, Brandt,” called out a furious voice from the other side. Wolf nearly cried with joy, recognising Maine’s voice. He strained forward, trying to wrench himself away from Brandt, but the man held him fast. 

Then suddenly, there was a searing pain in Wolf’s lower neck. Brandt’s teeth had stopped scraping against his skin and had dug in, clamping down with such savagery that Wolf shouted out in pain. There was another burst of frantic knocking at the door and the sound of a body slamming against it. Maine was calling his name now. 

Brandt laughed, his lips still against Wolf’s bleeding neck, and he kissed the wound before clearing his throat and calling out calmly, “The door’s unlocked, you know.” He put his teeth lightly over Wolf’s skin again just as the door flew open and Maine bolted into the room.

The spy froze in shock at the sight before him, of Brandt holding Wolf trapped, poised to bite down again. For a full second, no one moved. Then Brandt started to close his jaws around Wolf’s skin and the young man whimpered softly, begging him to stop. Wolf was on the verge of tears.

“Brandt, stop it,” Maine snarled, stepping forward. Brandt gazed at him for a moment, then slowly released Wolf’s neck and brushed his tongue over the slight dents in the skin in an apologetic manner. He let go of Wolf’s arms and Wolf scrambled towards Maine, clutching at his coat when he reached him. Maine crouched down to meet his partner, and wrapped his arms protectively around him. “Oh god, I am so sorry, Wolf. I’m so sorry.” As the man began to shake with silent tears, Maine raised his head to glare at Brandt. “You...” he growled. “What the fuck did you do to him?” 

“I was waiting for you,” Brandt said calmly, still sitting on the sofa. “I got bored. You’re lucky I didn’t do more to him.” 

“Your text,” Maine started, but Brandt’s laughter cut him off.

“I told you I’d mark him,” he said. “It’s all your fault, you know. Although I admire his faithfulness to you, compared to the way you were...” He addressed Wolf now; “There. I’m sure I’ve helped in some way to bring you back together. At my own expense, too! I could’ve done things very differently. Oh, stop crying, it didn’t hurt that much.” He stood up challengingly, and Maine rose as well and stormed towards him. The spy began to speak, but Brandt grabbed a fistful of hair either side of his head and silenced him with a kiss. Wolf just crouched on the floor, staring, unable to do anything. 

Maine had taken hold of Brandt’s jaw in both hands and pushed him away, but Brandt was quick and sank his teeth into Maine’s bruised shoulder. Maine gasped, successfully stifling a pained yelp, and tore away. He shoved Brandt, who lost his footing, and slammed his back into the wall. His forearm was at the agent’s throat, cutting off his air supply. He leaned in close to growl threats and warnings into Brandt’s ear, but from where Wolf was crouched it just looked... wrong. The feeling of betrayal sparked through him and he blinked back tears, telling himself he was being foolish. He couldn’t hear what Maine was telling Brandt, and looked away as he accidentally made eye contact with the agent. Brandt was grinning. 

In a moment, there was an arm around his shoulders pulling him to his feet, and Wolf allowed Maine to steal him away and out of the front door. They rushed down the stairs out onto the street and stood blinking in the sunlight for a second while they got their bearings. Then Maine tugged Wolf to the main road and hailed a taxi, hurriedly giving their address as they got into the car.

As they pulled away from the kerb, the driver caught a glimpse of their faces in the rear-view mirror. Wolf’s, tearstained and written over with shame, pupils of his deep blue eyes dilated, and Maine’s, pale with an alert, panicked expression. “Are you lads alright?” the driver asked, frowning as he noticed the spots of blood on Wolf’s shirt collar. 

“We’re fine,” Maine said sharply, glancing anxiously at Wolf. 

“Do you want me to get you some help? The police, or a hospital?”

“Just the address I gave you, thanks.” 

They arrived back at their flat in good time, and Maine thanked and paid the driver before ushering Wolf out of the vehicle. They walked together around the corner to get to the steps leading up to their front door, Wolf holding onto Maine’s sleeve and sticking tightly to his side. When they got inside the house Maine immediately got Wolf to sit down in his chair and put the kettle on. He got an antiseptic wipe from the first-aid box and went cautiously back to Wolf. 

“Can I see your neck, please?” he asked.

Wolf didn’t move, and didn’t appear to have heard him. Maine asked again and Wolf nodded, still looking down at the carpet.

Maine crouched in front of him and gingerly moved the shirt collar aside, examining the mark. He smiled faintly as he saw it wasn’t too bad and had stopped bleeding, leaving a dark bruise. Nevertheless, he still needed to clean it and began to dab at Wolf’s neck in small light strokes. At first Wolf stiffened and pulled away, but Maine shushed him and worked at a steady pace. “There we go,” he said when he was finished, throwing the used wipe into the bin from where he was crouched. “That wasn’t so bad. It’ll bruise, but that should go away in a day or two.” 

“Mhmn.” Wolf nodded again, shutting his eyes. 

“Wolf, are you okay?” Maine asked quietly. “He didn’t do anything else, right?”

Wolf shook his head, and cleared his throat. “You?”

“I’m okay. I am if you are.” Maine stayed where he was, longing to embrace Wolf but resisting. “Wolf, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine.”

“It won’t happen ever again, I swear it,” Maine said. “If he ever – I’ll kill him.”

Wolf gave a small breath of laughter. “What did he say, in his text?” he asked.

A pained look crossed Maine’s face. “He just... made it out to be a lot more serious than it was. That’s all.”

“Right.”

Maine hesitated, and then said softly, “Come to bed, yeah?” 

“What?” Wolf tensed. 

“Shush, no, not like that. You’re stressed and upset – god knows we both are – so let’s just rest, alright? I’ll wake you up for dinner.” Maine stood, and extended a hand for Wolf to take. The young man did so and Maine led him gently into the bedroom, looking away to allow him to change clothes. Wolf normally slept in just his boxers, but understandably was wearing a t-shirt and light trousers as well this time. 

Wolf crawled into bed, and looked back at Maine. He said nothing, but patted the space beside him. Maine, taking the cue, changed into his pyjamas and laid down next to Wolf. They lay on their sides facing each other, and Maine watched as Wolf’s eyes drifted closed and his breathing slowed and deepened.


	3. Chapter 3

Maine woke up in the middle of the night to the feeling of Wolf’s lips on his, and the former actor pulled back as Maine’s eyes opened. “You okay?” the spy asked.

Wolf still looked half asleep, and gazed at his bedfellow for a moment before saying tiredly, “Yeah. I was... worried you’d taste different.” 

Maine was confused for a second, and then realised what Wolf was talking about. He was remembering seeing Brandt grab Maine’s head and force their mouths together. Maine wrinkled his nose in disgust, still able to feel the sensation of Brandt’s tongue brushing his, still feeling the tension in his arms from when he forced the agent back. “And do I?” he asked.

Wolf smiled. “No.” He sighed and reached out, carefully brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from Maine’s face. “I’m very proud of you,” he said, “for not letting Brandt keep you.”

“What?”

He groaned in frustration. “How to say it...” Rolling onto his back, he said, “When Brandt kissed you. You immediately pushed him away. And the bite... he told me you like that – which is fine, everyone has their kinks – but you didn’t let him. And I’m really, really happy about that.” 

Maine smiled faintly. “I learned my lesson. Listen, Wolf, everything that I ever had with Brandt is long in the past. He was rather...addictive? when I knew him. That and alcohol... What I did was unforgivable, I know, and I completely understand how you feel. But I swear, Wolf, it will never happen again, okay? Nor will I allow him to get near you again.” 

Wolf didn’t look away from the ceiling. “Brandt told me I should...” He paused, coughed, and continued. “To make you jealous. To even the score or something. He said I should try the biting – I said I was angry at him for hurting you.”

Maine frowned, turning on his back to look up at the ceiling as well. “And were you tempted?”

“Not even for a second.”

There was silence between the pair, and then Maine said quietly, “In the text... he told me he’d raped you. I’d never been so scared.” 

“He said that?”

“What’s worse is that I wouldn’t put it past him... he’d do it, too. When I saw you... I was so scared. Scared and angry and I didn’t know what to do, but I knew it was all my fault.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Wolf murmured. “He’s insane.”

“It was to get me angry. The revenge thing. I mean, he knew it would help and that’s what makes it so awful. We could have gone on in silence for weeks had he not-”

“Really, Maine?” Wolf rubbed his hands over his eyes and Maine realised he was crying. “Do you think I would never forgive you?”

“I don’t know. I hurt you and there was no way of fixing it.”

Wolf turned back onto his side, gazing at Maine. “I was hurt,” he said. “I could hardly stand to look at you, let alone touch you, knowing you’d been touched like that by him.” Something in his voice hardened, and he said, “Please, don’t ever say that Brandt’s actions were helpful. I was hurt, and I was terrified.” 

Maine turned to face him, a highly distressed look upon his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Don’t suggest that he was being kind. Don’t you dare.”

“Wolf...”

But Wolf rolled over onto his other side, his back to Maine, and said nothing.

“Brandt is psychotic, and he’s unpredictable. He always has an ulterior motive,” Maine said hesitantly. Wolf stayed stubbornly silent. “In this case it could’ve been either to get us speaking again, or to break me by breaking you. Wolf, the second scenario is so terrifying to think of – what he could have done, he said he wanted to do things differently, and the text he sent me – I have to pretend that it’s the first motive because otherwise I just can’t handle it.” He paused for breath, aware that he had been talking faster and louder as he went on and now his chest felt tight and his eyes pricked with tears. “Please understand. I don’t say it to hurt you.” 

Wolf gave a heavy sigh and turned to look at Maine. His sapphire eyes were wet and Maine reached out tentatively to wipe a tear from his cheek. “I know,” he said softly. “I know you don’t mean any harm but... sometimes you just don’t think.” 

“I don’t,” Maine agreed. He edged closer and kissed Wolf softly on the forehead. “We’re okay now though, right? We can fix this?”

Wolf snuggled into Maine’s arms, burying his face into the other man’s chest. “We’re okay,” he said softly, his eyes drifting closed. “We can make it alright.”


End file.
